


Sunny Sunny Ho

by Leaveitbrii



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Cute Kids, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, hinted child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaveitbrii/pseuds/Leaveitbrii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Beginnings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ocean Water

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a shitty week so here's some kinda fluff beginning for this new idea I have. I can't write fluff I realize.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is 12.5, Josh is 13 and they spend summers together.
> 
> Or the summer Josh shows Chris an owl named Bernie.

Josh was one of those summer friends; the kind you only see when you're shipped from grandparent to grandparent and the school year has passed in a flurry of sun and blueberries. Chris only sees Josh two weeks out of the year, usually sometime in July, but Josh still seemed to remember him despite the short time they'd spend together with a wide stretch of a year in between.

Josh is 13, Chris 12.5 and he feels a bit more grown up than he did before but maybe it's because he's kissed a girl or two since he last saw Josh. Josh, whose first kiss was with a 13 year old when he was 10. Josh, who isn't as talkative this summer. Chris doesn't fully know how to describe his older friend. His friends at school would ask how his summer went and Chris always felt inclined to keep Josh secret from them, his vibrant, buzzing summer friend.

"Aren't those bad?" Chris asks, warily eying the pack of cigarettes Josh procures from the inside pocket of his jacket. They're sitting side by side, legs dangling in between metal bars as they lean against the railing surrounding the clock tower. Nesting Owl had grown considerably over the years, people moving in, moving out and apartment buildings were built across the bridge Chris takes to get to his grandma's house. More shops, more everything and the tiny town of Chris' summers was no longer tiny. 

Chris leans against the metal bar, legs swinging from side to side as he stares down at the walking people below them. There's a click, click of Josh's thumb swiping across a worn blue lighter and the air turns grey and sour. 

"They are." Josh responds easily.

Chris reaches for it, a bit awkwardly, tiny limbs tangled around the bars. Josh tilts his head away, nose wrinkled up in a way Chris registers as annoyance so he stops, grasping the bars with both hands and turning away. He wonders if he looks as dejected as he suddenly feels but it fades away when Josh folds a hand over his, warm and smooth. Chris pouts, turning back to Josh.

"You shouldn't do it."

"Does it bother you?"

"What if you die, Josh?" 

Josh laughs at that, inhaling sharply after, all gray and smoke and ash. The smile doesn't reach, dull green eyes flickering back to the large town spread out before them. Josh drops his hand, rubbing it over the worn fabric of his jeans. 

"Hannah's been weird." Josh sighs, air clouding with smoke. Chris blinks. Josh only mentioned his sisters occasionally, he had two, while Chris had none. 

"Do you know why?"

"No." Josh admits quietly. He takes the cigarette from his lips, rolling it between his fingers as he stares ahead, expression soft and pretty. Chris rests his chin on his elbows, gaze lingering on different types of people walking around. The sun peaks overhead, car horns honking along with the buzz buzz of town life. It reminded Chris of L.A. Josh focuses on the tops of his knees, burning ash slowly consuming the cigarette.

"Maybe she has a boyfriend." Chris suggests.

Josh shrugs. "Maybe. Feels different though."

Chris studies him, noticing the tense lines in Josh's face, the beginning of dark circles. He clears his throat and Josh peers up at him, curiosity evident in his face.

"How's, um, therapy?" 

"Haven't gone this week." Josh admits.

"Why not?"

"Cause, Cochise, there's no time. Things are different. Something is different."

Chris frowns, confused. "Wha- Are you talking about the froyo stand?"

Josh laughs, this exasperated lovely sound. Chris feels his cheeks warm as he continues to stare, transfixed on how Josh's faces change so often, from sad to happy to empty. Josh shoots him a smile, crooked and lazy, flicking his cigarette over the railing.

"You're not from here. You wouldn't understand." Josh says simply, sounding a lot older than he is, sounds a lot like Chris' mom when she's dismissing him from a 'grown up' conversation. Chris moves to counter Josh's words but the other is rising to his feet, dusting dirt from his jeans.

"Wanna see something cool?"

"Yeah," Chris says for the sake of speaking because it seems like Josh has already decided, heading towards the balcony exit. Chris scrambles to his feet, hurrying after the older boy. Josh waits for him by the door, hands in his jacket. They descend the winding steps together, shoulders brushing, elbows bumping. Chris tries not think about how he's never walked this close with anyone besides Josh.

"You excited about high school?" Josh asks.

"A little bit." Chris says nervously, pushing the door to town open with his shoulder. 

"Finally gonna get a girlfriend?" Josh nudges him playfully. Chris reddens, shoving the other lightly.

"Hey I kissed two girls this year." Chris tells Josh, proud, and Josh regards him closely, eyes wide and incredulous and so, so green. 

"What?" Josh faces him. "Your first kiss?"

"Uhm." Chris says smartly. "Yes."

Josh nods, a little more closed off, a little less enthused about the topic but he claps Chris on the shoulder anyway before calling him a baby, which Chris immediately shoots down. Josh leads down the street, pass the new dumpling shop, across a narrow bridge that overlapped a new street, down Old Baxter Rd, along the busy sidewalk until everything quiets and they're in a part of town Chris doesn't recognize. 

There's a run down warehouse on their right, moss and green covering most of the brick walls, windows large and cracked. Chris wanders after Josh, amazed at how the sidewalk fades away and there's just green and trees ahead.

"I'm glad my parents bought this part of the forest."

Chris raises an eyebrow at him. "You can't do that."

"You can do anything." Josh smirks back at him. They walk deeper into the woods, twigs and branches crunching under their shoes. Chris can see the beginnings of a house amongst the high branches. 

"What do your parents do?" Chris asks, still amazed that they could buy a forest.

"Mom's an accountant. Dad makes movies."

"What kind?"

"Scary ones. Not for babies like you, Cochise."

Chris gapes. "I-I'm not a baby!"

His voice wavers and cracks and Josh bursts into a fit of giggles.

"A baby."

Chris can't fully argue with that logic because his voice did crack, but he wasn't a baby. He was going to high school. Chris grumbles to himself, head knocking into Josh's shoulder when the other halts beside the large base of a tree. There are old planks nailed into the wood, some broken, some not, all leading up into a broken treehouse.

It's relatively large and detailed, painted a faded navy color and there's a hole in the roof but it has windows and a trap door situated at the top of the plank pathway. 

"Wow." Chris says.

"Right?" Josh snorts. "You first."

"What? Why?"

Josh rolls his eyes. "So I can catch you if you fall, dumbass. Now go."

Josh urges him against the tree, placing a steadying hand on Chris' back as Chris begins his ascent. Chris tries not to think of how some of the tree branches disappear beneath him and how it feels like he's been climbing for days. 

"You're doing fine, bro." Josh says reassuringly, close behind him.

"S-Shut up." Chris breathes, grateful when the trapdoor leading inside the treehouse sits just within arms reach. He shakily pushes it open, scrambling inside with a skittish hiss, Josh's asshole laughter floating up behind him. The floor to the treehouse is dirty, open candy wrappers strewn about. Names carved in hearts decorate the walls along with child drawings. There's an empty, open chest in the corner, sticky with white stains and old spider webs.

"This place is rank." Chris comments when Josh joins him inside.

"New word?" Josh smirks, closing the trapdoor back. Chris slaps his shoulder.

"Why are we here? It's gross."

Josh rolls his eyes. He points to one of the crudely made windows tucked in the farthest corner. Josh urges Chris towards it, pressed too close, too warm, hands on Chris' side. Chris complies easily, blushing furiously the entire time as he's shuffled into the corner.

"Look." Josh points and Chris follows his finger, peering out and he sees it. Chris gasps softly. It's an owl. An actual owl. Chris stares, amazed, and he's never seen one in person but there it is, curled up in a hole in the tree across from them, silver and black, feathers tipped white and soft. Big, empty eyes stare ahead absently.

"Wow."

"Still gross?" Josh whispers, breath caressing the side of Chris' face.

"Uhm." Chris mumbles, acutely aware that Josh's hands are still on his sides. His body feels warm, warm and tingly and Josh clears his throat, moving away with an embarrassed chuckle.

"No homo?" 

Chris nods shakily, but he misses the contact. Josh sits beside the trapdoor, Chris in the corner, both staring at the floor. Moments pass, a lot of blinking, a lot of breathing and Josh speaks first.

"I named her Bernie. Kinda lame right? Bernie."

Chris shakes his head. "No way, bro."

"Think so?"

"Better than Gertrude."

"Everything's better than Gertrude." Josh chuckles, fixing Chris with a sparkling smile. Chris blinks, suddenly embarrassed, adjusting his glasses before taking them off to clean. He uses the underside of his shirt, rotating his thumb against the lens. A large smear appears and Chris groans.

"Here. Lemme try." Josh says, closer than Chris remembers him being. Josh scoots over to him, their knees touching as he takes Chris' glasses in hand. Chris watches Josh clean the lenses slowly, thumb working fabric clockwise.

"What was her name?"

Chris glances up at Josh. "Who?"

"The first girl you kissed."

Chris scratches his nose. "Lisa."

"Was... Was it good?"

Chris nods, although Josh doesn't see the gesture, focused on cleaning. "Yeah. What about yours?"

"That was like three years ago, Cochise."

"Okay but I'm sure you've kissed girls since then."

Josh blushes. "U-Um yeah but still."

"Who?" Chris persists, touching Josh knee as he leans forward. Josh stills, paused in mid circle and he glances up at Chris, who stares at him wide eyed. 

"Her name was Sam." Josh tells him. "She lives down the road from me." 

"Oh." Chris responds, suddenly wishing he hadn't asked. Chris sits back and Josh resumes wiping Chris' glasses off. 

"D-Did... you like it?" Josh frowns, looking up at Chris. He studies the others face, watching Chris turn three different shades of red before he realizes it's an actually question. Chris kinda wishes he didn't ask but Josh gasps inaudibly, green eyes dimming as he regards Chris nervously.

"Yeah." Josh says. "Did you like yours?"

"I don't know." Chris answers honestly. His first kiss was a lot stickier than his second, a little less lipgloss. 

"Have you kissed a boy?" Josh asks and Chris shakes his head. 

"Want... to try it?"

Chris blinks, unsure if he actually heard right. Josh shifts nervously, setting the glasses aside. His hand hovers over Chris' knee briefly before it presses down, fingers spreading along the denim. Josh leans forward, knees pressing into dirtied wood. Chris forces himself to breathe, watching Josh draw his bottom lip between white teeth. He wishes his glasses were still on so maybe the reality of the situation would actually make sense instead of this blurred perception of what Josh is asking.

"Okay." Chris answers, voice barely above a whisper. Josh nods slowly, leaning forward, sliding the palm of his hand along Chris' thigh. It's warm and soothing; slow, purposeful movements as Josh inches closer and closer. Chris tilts his head to the side slightly, nose brushing the tip of Josh's. Chris can faintly smell cherry licorice, old cigarettes lingering along the collar of Josh's jacket.

"Did you close your eyes?" Josh's eyes flicker down to Chris' mouth. Chris nods, barely able to remember Lisa's soft lips pressing against his for a fleeting moment. Josh levels him with a slow smile, reaching his other hand out to rest beside Chris' on the floor. They're impossibly close now, the top Josh's thighs melding into Chris' knees.

"Will you close your eyes this time?"

Chris shakes his head, placing a hand on Josh's shoulder. He licks his lips, the gesture followed by narrowing green eyes. Josh kisses him, slightly chapped and dry, hand on Chris' waist. Chris sighs against him, pushing up further, butterflies fluttering down his throat. His heart pounds in his chest, this flurry of beating sounds that thunder in his ear when Josh tilts his head just so, lips parting against Chris', the timid touch of tongue across his bottom lip.

Chris thinks somewhere he might've died. And it's not exactly the way he expected his summer here to go, kissing Josh in a treehouse after seeing an owl for the first time. It's not like kissing Lisa, soft and sticky and fleeting, or like kissing Harriet, demanding and insistent with the weight of fourteen teenage eyes on you. Kissing Josh is different, a lot like finding a lily pad on a clear pond and realizing you can touch it. He doesn't taste like cherry lip gloss or snap peas, more like Pepsi and bubblegum.

Chris mimics Josh's movements, awkwardly kicking out his legs and Josh just slides over them easily, sitting atop of Chris' knees, pressing closer, warm and moving and its a bit sloppy, a bit inexperienced but Chris can only think that he's 12.5 and Josh is 13 and they're kissing in an old treehouse. 

Josh pauses, seemingly unsure how to proceed now that his tongue is in Chris' mouth, and Chris would laugh if he didn't feel the same level of confusion and his lap wasn't currently filled with Josh. Chris flicks his tongue along the roof of Josh's mouth, marveled by slow shudder that works through the other's body. The hand on Chris' waist tightens and Josh drags his tongue along Chris', earning a quickened breath.

Josh snorts, studying Chris' face, and tries again, angling his head slightly, lips coaxing Chris' into a sweet rhythm, tongues sliding along one another, hands fisted into shirts. Chris understands what the older kids talk about now, understands the hype of holding someone close and kissing. His mind is empty, thoughtless, interesting specks of color that all look like Josh's eyes, Josh's eyes that are closed now as the older boy slides his hands along Chris stomach, up and up until he's grasping his shoulder. 

Chris isn't completely sure what to do with his hands so he pets various parts of Josh's body while maintaining their shy kissing. Chris notices that Josh likes it when he touches his thighs, his neck, the soft curls in his hair. Chris just likes touching Josh, he realizes. There's a little buzz in his head that sounds a lot like "so homo". 

Chris wonders if kissing other boys like this would feel the same, if kissing anyone else would feel the same as kissing Josh in a treehouse. Josh pulls away slightly, lips puffy and pink and Chris kisses them again because they seem soft and pretty. Josh smiles against him, easing Chris back after placing another chaste kiss to his lips.

"You have to get home." Josh says.

Chris glances out the window, noticing the darkening sky outside, striped orange and purple and blue. There's a momentary flare of panic because his mémé was definitely going to be pissed if he didn't get home soon. Josh regards him quietly, easing out of Chris' lap as the other fumbles to put his glasses on. He averts his eyes when Chris focus returns to him, appearing small and nervous. His cheeks are tinted pink. 

"Wanna walk me?" Chris asks and it must be the right thing to say because Josh's face lights up. He heads down first, steadying Chris as the other struggles to find his footing while also not looking down. Chris nearly collapses when his feet hit the ground.

"Oh man, bro. You wouldn't believe how bad I am in climbing class."

Josh cocks an eyebrow at him. "Gym?"

"What?" Chris blinks.

"Climbing class. You mean gym right?"

"With the monkey bars? And running laps? Cha Cha Slide?"

Josh looks about cross eyed. "That's gym."

"Oh my god." Chris gasps loudly.

"Bro, seriously?" Josh smirks, cheeks still a bit red. "Come on."

Chris trails after him, blushing furiously at his mistake. They don't walk side by side this time, Josh's hands tucked in his pockets, Chris wandering close behind him. Josh slows to a stop when they reach the sidewalk, turning back to Chris with soft eyes. 

"Are we still friends?" Josh asks timidly.

Chris scratches the back of his head. "Y-Yeah."

"I... I don't know if kissing you was a good idea." Josh tells him honestly. "But.. I-I.."

Chris waits for the other to continue, watching the whirrs clunk along as Josh thinks, nose wrinkled in concentration. Josh kicks absently at a leaf. 

"I like you, Chris. You're like my best friend. We only see each other a few times but I feel like we're best friends. Are we best friends?"

"Yes." Chris says hurriedly. "I think the same."

"Do you like me?"

Chris wasn't sure, but he enjoyed being around Josh, enjoyed sitting on the balcony of the clock tower side by side, tossing rocks into rivers and talking about nothing and everything. Chris still didn't know very much about Josh, but Josh told him what he thought was important, like that he gets sad sometimes and talks to a doctor three times a week and that he has two sisters who he loves. 

"Yeah." 

"Okay." Josh nods, a small smile on his face. He turns away from Chris, continuing ahead as Chris stumbles along behind him. The walk back to his mémé's house is a quiet one, most of the city tucked behind doors of houses or late night eateries. Josh walks beside him, their hands keep brushing, fingers tapping against fingers. Chris glances over his shoulder, taking in the empty sidewalk behind them, the flickering night lamps over head. He grabs Josh's hand, lacing their fingers together.

Josh's walk stutters slightly. His face turns to Chris' before glancing down at their locked hands. He curls his fingers, a slight shake as their palms meld together. Josh smiles softly, cheeks rosy and Chris imagines his expression is similar. He clears his throat, squeezing Josh's hand softly. The click of a house light coming on brings Chris from his thoughts. He studies the tiny houses they pass, old and colorful.

"I feel weird." Josh tells him as they walk. 

Chris glances at Josh from the corner of his eye. He did too. His fingers have been tingling since they started holding hands and the butterflies haven't gone away. Josh's palm is sweaty in his but he doesn't pulls away.

Chris can make out his mémé's house in the distance, lights glowing soft shades of white through the windows, the closed picket fence wrapped around the house, dark shadows of hedges and flowers collecting along the lawn. Josh pauses before they reach the house, grasping Chris' hand tightly.

Chris turns to him. Josh stares down at their linked hands, face illuminated by a nearby lamplight. "I should go."

"Josh-"

"Nah, Chris. I should. I should go." Josh pulls his hand away, tucking it inside his pocket. 

"Okay." Chris responds, hand still outstretched, fingers spread outward. He retracts it to his body, hesitantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The silence between them is awkward, seconds feeling like hours between. 

"See you tomorrow?" Josh queries.

"Mémé is driving me to the airport in the morning."

Josh's face falls, the dimmer of disappointment reflected in the downturn of his mouth. He shrugs his shoulders. It seems like a painful movement. Chris barely hears Josh's soft "okay". 

"Josh."

Josh looks up at him. 

"You wanna stay over?"

Josh nods solemnly, closing the distance between them. He doesn't grab Chris' hand but he does bump their shoulders together, elbows knocking. Chris pushes the gate to the fence open, walking along the stone pathway leading to the porch stairs. Josh walks silently behind him, eyes downcast. 

Mémé doesn't ask when Josh ends up at the kitchen island with Chris, both red cheeked and quiet, but she gives Chris a withered smile before setting two bowls of baked apples in front of them. She sprinkles cinnamon on top, scooping two spoonfuls of whip cream for Chris, one for Josh as though she knows his preference. 

The silence is comforting, kitchen warm and cozy with swirls of spiced sugar and candied mangoes filling the air. Josh places a hand on Chris' knee, hidden from Mémé's eyes as she flips through an old magazine written in a foreign language. Chris rests his hand on top of Josh's, spooning mouthfuls of apples every few seconds. 

"I'm going to sleep." Mémé tells them, the lilt in her voice soft and fluttery. She closes the magazine and folds it under her arm, reaching a dark manicured hand out to ruffle Chris' hair. Mémé winks at Josh before rising gracefully from her seat.

"Don't stay up too late. We have to rise early tomorrow." She exits the kitchen, whistling softly as she climbs the stairs. They creak with each step, drifting farther and farther away. Josh's hand is still on his knee. Neither of them are eating, hands frozen on utensils as they stare absently ahead. Chris feels like somethings changed, it probably has, because he doesn't want to leave tomorrow.

"I'm kinda tired." Chris turns to Josh, who is staring into the bowl of unfinished apples. 

"Let's go." Chris tugs at Josh's hand, grasping the other's bowl. He collects his own, hobbling off the stool to make the small journey to the sink. Chris scoops the apples into the garbage disposal, frowning when he can't remember which switch is which. He leaves it, remembering his mother's warning to not handle sharp things. 'In the ground or out the ground, doesn't matter'.

Josh has his jacket folded over his arms, watching Chris flick off lights and straighten the stools. He looks away when Chris turns to him, biting his bottom lip. Chris takes his hand, leading him upstairs, around the first corner, last room on the right. 

Chris wants to ask why Josh has been so quiet and reserved this summer, why he doesn't make "your mom jokes" or say "that's what she said" after Chris words something awkwardly. Chris figures it has to do with one of his sisters. The one acting strangely. 

Chris lets Josh borrow a shirt and a pair of sweat pants that fit a bit too loosely on Josh's tiny body but the other doesn't complain just crawls into bed after Chris cuts the light off. Chris faces Josh, glasses crooked as they press into the side of his face. Josh stares back, arm tucked under his head. He sighs heavily, glancing down.

"I think someone's hurting her."

"Your sister?"

Josh nods. "I.. I don't know who. She won't tell me."

"Why do you think that?"

"I can't explain it." Josh huffs. "You've never met her so you wouldn't know but she's always been the most... social out of the three of us. Beth is pretty quiet and kinda sticks to her own but Hannah. Hannah practically glows all the time. She talks and talks about anything and everything and she has so many hobbies, Cochise." Josh explains, "But she's stopped doing those things. She doesn't leave her room. She's not eating. I found a journal of hers underneath the bathroom sink and I read part of it but she found me. Hannah was so mad, Chris. Extremely mad."

"What did it say?"

"That she was hanging with an older guy. I don't know how much older or who it is but Hannah made me promise not to tell mom and dad." Josh sighs angrily. "She's like 12, Chris. She shouldn't be hanging out with older people. What does that even mean? It sounds gross. Why would someone older want to hang around my little sister? Why?"

Chris doesn't know. He tells Josh this, who sighs again, heavier and thick and it sounds like he's going to cry. Josh shifts closer to him, tucking his head under Chris' chin, tiny hands grasping the front of his shirt. Chris wraps an arm around him, feeling confused and a bit worried because his mom said something about only hanging around with kids his age. 

Josh's shoulders shake, little trembles followed by soft sniffles and Chris holds him tighter, glancing down at the top of Josh's hair, dark and messy. 

"I don't know what to do, Chris." Josh sounds helpless and small, so so small. "She made me promise but somethings wrong, somethings wrong with her and she won't tell me." 

Josh cries softly into Chris' chest, these soft, broken noises as his nails dig into Chris' skin. Chris doesn't know what to say, what he could possibly say when he's only 12.5 and has little experience with siblings because he has none but he knows how important promises are. You have to take their hand and press your thumbs together and whisper 'sunny, sunny ho' so God will hear you and know that it's serious. Promises were serious. But Josh's sister wasn't okay.

"I'm sorry, Josh." Chris can't think of anything else to say so he just keeps saying it over and over as Josh sobs into his chest until his nose gets snotty and wet and Chris has to go get toilet paper from the bathroom to wipe his nose with. Josh lets him clean his face, sniffing, eyelashes damp and glossy. Chris wants to call him pretty but it seems kinda weird when Josh has been crying and they're friends.

"Will you forget about me? In high school?" Josh asks. They're both sitting on Chris' bed, knees touching, cross legged and bathed in the soft glow of Chris' night light. Chris is just happy Josh isn't crying anymore.

"No." Chris tells him. "We're best friends."

Josh smiles, a bit weak, a bit forced. "Promise?"

"Yeah. I'll come back and see you." Chris holds out his hand. Josh takes it, confusion evident in his face. Chris presses their thumbs together, squeezing Josh's hand tightly.

"You have to ask God to help seal the promise. My mom said it's so you don't forget because God will kill you if you do."

"That's kinda weird, bro." Josh remarks.

Chris agrees. "Sunny sunny ho. Say it."

"Uhm, okay. Sunny sunny ho?"

"I promise I'll come back and see you."

Josh smiles a bit wider this time. "Okay."

"Are you going to get a girlfriend?" Chris inquires, hand still locked in Josh's. Josh shrugs, looking away from Chris.

"I dunno. I'm kinda crazy."

"Because you talk to a doctor? That's a good thing, right?"

"Nah. 's just weird. People don't really see it as a good thing."

Chris frowns. "That doesn't make sense."

"You're a dork, of course it doesn't make sense to you." Josh smirks, placing a hand on Chris' knee. He shifts forward, the corners of his mouth twitching, and he kisses Chris softly, wet and smooth and Chris kisses back, holding Josh's hand close to his heart. 

"Don't kiss anymore boys." Josh tells him when they break apart. He lies down, waiting for Chris to lie beside him before squirming his bony body into Chris' space. 

"I can't. That would be gay." Chris responds but it feels as stupid as it sounds. He never considered kissing boys like you kiss girls but he could consider it now, but he knows kissing Josh will never be like kissing anyone else. 

"We kissed." Josh mumbles, yawning widely. "Like twice."

"No homo?" 

"Okay." Josh says tiredly. "No homo, Cochise."

Chris pets Josh's hair, smoothing the soft strands back until his eyes grow heavy and the quiet of the room shifts along his subconscious like a weight. It feels like a second but he wakes up when the sun peaks over the trees and Josh is gone, but there's a beaded bracelet on Chris' wrist that wasn't there before, along with a smooth sparkling rock on his night stand. 

There isn't a note or any sort of indication of goodbye but Chris realizes that's how Josh has always been, someone who doesn't wait for you to leave, instead he does and leaves tiny trinkets in his place. Chris sits up slowly, staring absently at the bracelet. It's black with two golden beads. A cat meows loudly from outside Chris' window.

He's going home today.


	2. Sparkling Cider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh is 7.5 when he meets Sam.
> 
> Josh is 7.75 when he meets Chris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking up this chaptered thing and these two chapters are involved but not really so here, have cute kids.

Josh is seven and a half when he meets Sam. He isn't sure if Sam has always been in his class but he does notice when she begins to sit beside him in the back, taking the empty seat near the window. She doesn't say anything, makes no mention of the seat change, but she'll pass him notes for class work if he dozes off or she'll ask to read from his book when she forgets hers. Josh thinks she's pretty with her long, golden hair but he doesn't know what color her eyes are. Swirls of colors that remind Josh sometimes of brown, sometimes of green.

Sam is different. She doesn't mind that he's quiet.

"Wanna swing with me?" 

Josh looks up from his lap. Sam stands before him, glossed by the sunlight and she's smiling wide and beautiful. Her hair is in a long braid, clothes boyish but pretty. Josh's heart thumps loudly in his chest. He takes a look around, insecure and unsure, because no one has asked him to swing with them. A group of kids play kickball in the distance.

Josh stares back at his lap. He bites his bottom lip and nods before he can stop himself. Sam's tiny laughter causes him to lift his head. She reaches for his hand. Her fingers are thicker than his, soft and smooth like Beth's. Josh rises from his seat on the stairs leading back inside. Sam leads him towards the swing set quietly. She picks the one in the middle so Josh takes the one to her right. He grasps the cool metal, feet barely reaching the ground.

"Are we friends, Josh?"

Josh turns to her. Sam is staring at him with her wide, strangely colored eyes. It reminds him of a gem. Josh swallows and nods. His reward is another bright smile. 

"Good."

Josh goes home with a smile, Hannah and Beth relentless in their questioning because it's unusual and 'peculiar' (His mom said that meant strange). His parents noticed but their only comment was a knowing look and Josh wishes he was older so he can understand what that means. 

"Good day today, bud?" His dad asks, flipping a pancake into the air. It lands back in the frying pan with a hiss. They're alone in the kitchen, Josh sitting on the kitchen island, tiny legs rocking back and forth as he watches his dad scoop pancake after pancake onto different plates.

Josh nods. He feels strange, elated even and he knows what that means. It meant extreme joy and delight. It's what he feels. He has a friend. Sam is his friend and she doesn't mind if he's quiet or never offers a conversation. In fact she seemed to encourage it. She'd sometimes talk about her mom fighting with her dad over small things, how she strange she feels and that she loves the color purple which was Beth's favorite color. 

"Good deal, buddy." His dad sets a plate in front of him, pancakes covered in fruit and a light drizzle of syrup because Josh didn't care for a lot like his siblings. His dad leans against the island, leveling Josh with a wide smile. He reaches out and runs his fingers through Josh's hair. 

"I made a friend today." Josh admits quietly.

"I'm so happy for you, Josh."

Josh introduces Sam to Hannah and Beth one day at school, when the twins are persistent in figuring out who the mystery person is. Hannah immediately takes to her, Beth absolutely adores her and they both stare in marvel at Josh as if surprised that he could find something so amazing. Josh didn't find Sam. She found him.

Sam comes over more, with her parents in tow, and Hannah seems happy enough to invade Josh and Sam's time together. Josh feels a bit selfish because Sam was his friend first but Hannah hands him a dress when they all play dress up and Josh wears it with a shy smile because Sam is there and she keeps talking about how beautiful they both are. 

Sam holds his hand a lot during recess, whispers softly into his ear about her day and how she's the smartest one in history. Josh could listen to her talk for hours. He could and would without hesitation because he probably loves her like he loves Beth and Hannah. 

It becomes a pattern. Sam finding Josh after class and they'll walk together to the swings. The twins begin to search them out during recess when Sam grows restless and wants to climb monkey bars or use the slide instead and Beth will beam at how strong she is. 

"Joshy, look." Hannah tugs on Josh's sleeve, large brown eyes distracting him from Sam showing Beth how to use the swing. There's a lady bug crawling on Hannah's shoes, using the laces to weave around in a slowed fashion. Hannah giggles.

"Want to name her?" Josh asks.

Hannah looks up at him, hand still fisted into Josh's sleeve. "Can it be a boy?"

"Sure. It can be anything."

"Even a dragon?" Hannah asks in awe.

"You can make it whatever you want, Han." Josh says affectionately. He watches Hannah bends down, index finger outstretched. The lady bug crawls onto it, slow, unhurried. Josh kneels down beside his sister, unable to hold his smile back at how Hannah stares at the tiny bug with wonder. The ladybug's wings spread, hovering up. It flies away. 

"Joshy, you're magic."

Josh isn't. He's just ordinary.

Sam and Beth stumble over to them, hands locked with wide smiles and Josh feels weird, watching the way Sam stares after Beth like she knows that Beth is something. It's not the same way she stares at Josh sometimes. Josh and Beth are not the same. His thoughts jumble. He feels painfully ordinary.

Josh is not magic.

He doesn't feel angry or nervous or hurt, he just feels numb acknowledgment, awareness and like something is beating against the inside his head. It's a feeling Josh doesn't like but it never stops. 

"Josh? Where are you going?" Sam calls for him.

Josh stumbles up the stairs and inside the school. The long hallways feel so menacing now, so long and tall and Josh is small, small and transparent. He wanders the halls, shrinking away from menacing shadows. Josh ends up in one of the stalls in the boy's bathroom, slumped on one of the toilets, staring absently at the ceiling. 

Footsteps ring through the hall, loud chatter of young voices. They sound like sirens in his ears, like the scream of locusts. Josh pulls his knees to his chest, arms folded in his lap and he breathes. Josh didn't mean to leave, he's not sure why he did. He feels weird. He feels weird. He feels-

"Hey!" Josh jumps, startled, exhaling heavily. His cheeks are wet, bottom lip trembling. Josh doesn't understand. Someone is wiggling the door to his stall but it's locked.

"Hey." Softer this time. It's an unfamiliar voice, older, deep. An adult. Josh tenses up, wiping his face but the tears keep coming. He doesn't understand. Boys don't do this. The door shakes with another try. A low sigh follows.

"Are you okay? I heard you crying, do you want to talk about it?"

Josh just wants him to leave. He doesn't answer, staring at the tops of his knees. He's pathetic. Josh can see a pair of shoes from under the door, dress shoes, pearl black and shiny.

"You know you can talk to adults about whatever right? That's what we're here for." He says and Josh bites the inside of his cheek, gaze training on the crack in the door. A blue eye stares back at him. It doesn't sparkle like Sam's, crisp and intense. 

"Please leave." Josh whispers softly.

The eye blinks, narrowing in the corners and Josh wonders if the man is frowning. He feels embarrassed, irritated even to be found out crying at school because it meant attention would be on him, unwanted attention. He doesn't want attention. Josh wants to be invisible. 

"Okay." The man says. He takes a step back, shiny shoes disappearing from the small opening in the stall but Josh can still see him staring at the stall Josh is sitting in, face lightly blank and unmoving, glasses on his nose. The man leaves. Josh is alone.

He breathes.

Josh washes his face with water from the sink a few minutes later, using his shirt to pat it dry. He stares at his reflection. It stares back, eyes dull and empty and dark. It doesn't look like him. What does he look like? Josh doesn't know. He does know he's pathetic to cry in the school bathroom. Josh doesn't even understand why. 

Sam finds him outside the library, recess coming to an end, and she punches his arm hard. There are tears in her eyes. Josh understands her anger. It's the same anger his mom would have if he left her in an aisle in the grocery store. 

Josh rubs his arm. "What color are your eyes?"

"Josh, seriously, you-" Sam blinks at him, frowning in confusion. "What?"

"Your eyes." Josh points to hers.

Sam sniffles. "Hazel."

Hazel. Josh's mind searches for an answer but only finds a mixture of green and blue and brown. Josh nods.

"I'm sorry." He tells her.

Sam grabs his hand. "Did I do something?"

"No." Josh answers honestly. He's just stupid.

"Are you ok? Your eyes are red."

"What do I look like?" Josh inquires, earning a frown. Sam stares at him, different than she stares at Beth. Her gaze softens. 

"You're pretty."

Josh blinks at her. Sam smiles.

"Your hair is brown and soft. You smile like your mom, but," She reaches out to touch Josh's face, fingers touching a corner of his mouth. "It's so sad. Are you sad?"

Josh had never considered sadness as a feeling. There was no reason for it. He had a family, a family made of magic. Josh shakes his head. He wasn't sad. He was just... stupid. 

Josh had a friend. A friend he would share with Hannah and Beth because he loves them and he thinks Sam loves them too.

"No." 

Sam doesn't seem convinced but she says 'okay' and takes his hand in hers. She makes him promise never to leave without telling them, that it makes his siblings sad and it makes her sad. Josh doesn't want that. He wants to protect them.

Sam walks him to class, Math, hand in hand and Josh tries not to think of how funny his stomach feels. She hugs him close when they reach the door.

"Do you keep promises, Josh?"

Josh hugs her back. "I don't know."

Sam nods against him. Josh wonders what face she's making. He pats her shoulder.

"Is that what friends do?"

"Yes." Sam says. "It's what good people do."

"I'll keep my promise." Josh tells her. Sam pulls away, hands on his shoulders and she stares deep into his face. His insides twist under her penetrating gaze. What does she see? Sam holds out her pinky. Josh wraps his around hers, then presses his thumb to hers when Sam holds hers out.

"That's how you make a promise." Sam smiles. It's a marvelous picture. 

Josh blushes. "Um. Ok. Thank you."

"I will see you tomorrow." 

"Ok." 

Josh watches her leave, braid bouncing along her back as she walks. He folds a hand over his stomach because it keeps turning and flipping and it's a weird experience. Josh makes his way inside the classroom, the teacher, Mrs. Henry, sitting behind the desk with a book in hand. A couple of students sit around the class, some playing with crayons while others talk.

He expects the remainder of the day to be unbecoming, expects it to be another typical dull Tuesday and it is, is until school releases for the summer and Sam tells Josh that she's visiting her grandparents in the mountains ("The Rockies." "The what?" "It's a mountain. I'll bring you back a goat.") Her hug is tight and warm and she kisses his cheek when they part, saying she'll bring him back something for missing his birthday.

"You can't change your birthday, Josh." His dad laughs at the idea, pillow in his arm underneath his head. He grins at Josh, whose curled up on his stomach. They're in a pillow fort in the living room, snacks littering the floor along with a couple of empty soda cans. Josh pats his father's stomach.

"But Sam will miss it."

His dad frowns. "Aw buddy. Well. How about this? We can invite her over when she comes back. I can make you a strawberry cake."

Josh pouts. "You always eat all of it."

"Can't help if it taste good." His dad grins, jabbing Josh's side, earning a tiny giggle. "Oh I forgot how ticklish you are." 

Josh's eyes widen in surprise, not expecting to be assaulted with his dad's wiggling fingers, laughter rolling off his tongue with ease as his dad tickles him furiously. Josh kicks and rolls, squealing loudly as his chest begins to hurt. The noise is big enough that the twins join them inside the fort, Hannah and Beth leaping to defend their brother from tickling hands. It doesn't work and soon they're all a giggling pile of tired limbs, their mom peering down at them with an amused twitch in her eyebrow.

The summer is when he meets Chris, who is seven and a quarter at the time. Josh is 7.75. Josh wouldn't say it was chance but he's seen Tildy around town enough to be invited over for sundaes. She's one of the few adults Josh's parents trust him with and she has a funny way of talking. Tildy told him once that she lived across the sea. Josh had called her a mermaid. 

"This is my grandson, Christopher."

Christopher has a chubby face smooth and round, spotted with freckles, eyes too big, too blue, hidden behind a pair of large glasses. He stutters when he talks and holds out a hand for Josh to shake. Josh suddenly feels a lot older but he shakes it anyway, tiny palms rubbing together. Josh wasn't old enough then to realize the stuttering beat of his heart wasn't from suddenly meeting someone new, wasn't old enough to know that when Chris said 'call me Chris', voice pitched high and loud, smile as wide as the sky, sparkled white with dark blue braces, that he'd never look at anyone the same way.

"Have you ever kissed a girl?" 

Josh looks over at him, the deafening sound of Chris' character defeating his echoing in his ears. He squints, unsure if he heard right because why is Chris asking him this. Josh shrugs.

"I have." Chris tells him, almost proudly.

Josh nudges him. "That's a lie."

"N-Nuh uh!" Chris sputters but his cheeks are red. Josh grins, mouthing 'liar' until Chris pouts cutely. He falls back on Josh's bed, gaping like a fish. Josh follows behind. They both stare up in silence at painted stars, stars Josh helped his mom paint. They glowed in the dark but it was a secret so he doesn't tell Chris.

"There's a boy in my class named Mike who kissed two girls last year." Chris tells Josh. He sounds disappointed. "Have you kissed anyone?"

Josh considers telling the truth. "Yeah. She was 13."

"That's such bullshit." Chris says, a soft gasp followed after. He glances at Josh, mouth open and panicked. "Don't tell Mémé. It's a bad word."

"I won't tell." Josh promises and Chris releases a relieved sigh. Josh stares at him, taking in the soft curve of Chris' cheeks, the darkening bruise on his lower lip from where he bit too hard. Chris stares back, blue eyes wide. Josh wonders what he's thinking about, what he could be thinking about. 

Chris looks away first, cheeks red, and sits up shakily, fumbling with the controller. Josh follows suit, ignoring the stinging feeling he feels along his spine. He presses play. It's how they spend the day, neither speaking, only bellowing calls from slain characters echoing the room.

Josh spends time with him during the day when his sisters are at camp and his parents are working. Tildy doesn't mind, in fact, she seems pleased that Chris has someone to play with. She told Josh so and it made his insides flop.

"You're pretty." Chris tells him one day, his last day. They're sitting on the balcony of Nesting Owl's clocktower, watching birds chase after each other. His words remind him of Sam. Josh rarely thinks of her because Chris was always there to fill up his empty days with something. Sam, who Josh looks at like she's made of magic, but Chris is something else.

"Boys can't be pretty." Josh counters, kicking his feet up. He wonders why Chris has chosen to tell him this, on this day, his last day.

"Yeah they can. My mom said." Chris quips, grinning widely at Josh. Josh turns away, twisting the metal railing against his palm. His face feels warm. Chris glances back at Josh, glasses pushed down on his nose.

"I leave tomorrow." Chris tells him.

"Yeah." Josh doesn't mean to sound as dejected as he does but Chris notices, grasping Josh's hand. He gives a soft squeeze and smiles and Josh thinks the pretty one here is probably Chris. He tells him so.

"Ahhh." Chris flushes, pale face turning a bright red as he quickly turns away. "T-That's not cool, bro."

"You said it first, Cochise." Josh doesn't know why he said it. He remembers the name from a film his dad watched but it holds no relevant significance. Chris blushes harder but doesn't let go of Josh's hand, doesn't correct him.

"Will you come back?" Josh asks.

"Yes." Chris promises, eyes twinkling blue and bright and endless. Josh believes him.

Chris isn't at the clocktower the next day but Josh has never felt less alone than he did before. Somethings changed. He can feel it in the way the wind shifts, the softness in the sky and how it holds thicker, whiter clouds than before. Some kind of magic. Tildy told him this town was old, it was magic. Josh believes her.

He's seen it exist, in the way flowers grow in the garden even when it's cold, in how his mother creates worlds from ink and colors, in the way his dad turns words into picture. Josh imagines it exists because Beth and Hannah exist with their chubby fingers and giggles and the sound is like music and the flap of wings. His family is magic.

But Josh isn't. Or at least he thought he wasn't.

He had been too quiet, too soft spoken at times and the teacher would make him speak up even when he didn't want to because the girls giggle at the way his cheeks blush. Josh had never socialized with kids his age aside from Chris and Sam, sat alone at lunch and tried to make himself as small as possible. But he could see it now, the magic. In this town and how it spiraled around his family like pollen off a tree.

Beth could build abstract buildings with her Legos, Hannah read books too thick and too boring because she was smart. His mom could paint and people paid money to look at her work. His dad made movies that scared people, movies that made people cry. But Josh. Josh can only draw. He's not good with colors but his mom buys him this dark chalk that she calls 'charcoal' and builds him a section in her studio so he can sit with her when he feels lonely, but loneliness feels like forever. 

Josh finds himself sitting on the tiny stool often, staring blankly at the empty canvas unable to even produce a circle if he tried. Josh has learned a new word. It's 'discouraged' and it's usually how he feels inside of his mother's studio, surrounded in her beautiful paintings. 

"You haven't drawn anything, honey." 

Josh's fingers are black from where he's rolled charcoal around his hands. His canvas remains empty as it had been for weeks now. The last thing he drew was a flower. It was dying. Josh twists around to look at her. She stands tall in the doorway, dressed plainly in white cuffed pants, feet bare with dark red toes. Josh recognizes the Ought shirt she's wearing as his father's. 

"Uninspired?"

Josh frowns. "Is that like discouraged?"

"Similar." 

Josh nods, turning back to the canvas. "I don't have any ideas."

His mom comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and she smells sweet like jasmine. Her hair is damp, curly and wild and the ends tickle his cheeks. She takes one of his hands, uncaring if any charcoal gets on her expensive bracelets, and guides it to the canvas. They trace a circle, then another, smoothing the edges black and grey. It's a face, Josh realizes halfway through watching. He's transfixed on the way their hands move together, fluid and graceful.

"What do you see?" His mom asks. 

"A face." Josh answers. 

The nose is next, tiny and blackened, specks of white where freckles might've been. His mom smiles against him, pressing a small kiss to the side of his face. Her hand isn't guiding anymore instead it rests on his, following movements and Josh is the one making the face. This is his design. 

"Thank you." Josh whispers, smearing away borders until they blend into gradient shades of grey. 

"You're welcome, baby boy. Want me to sit with you?"

"Please."

His mom sets up an easel beside him, old and plastic and it's such a difference to what she usually works on. She winks at him when he scrunches his nose up at it.

"Old doesn't mean useless, Joshua."

She picks out colors from tubes of paint, squeezing a small glob on certain spots of her palette. His mom paints with brushes, sometimes with her fingers or toothpicks. Josh has watched her scrape pieces of wood with pointed instruments and create marvels from it. Josh can only draw.

"Did you know I can't use charcoal?"

Josh's eyes move from her new painting to her. A soft smile is on her face.

"It's too messy. I'm not very good at it and here you are. My sweet boy able to create such beautiful things from darkness. A very new kind of magic."

His heart speeds up, stomach twisting. Josh's cheeks warm, eyes darting away from her to his canvas. A face stares back at him, freckled and smooth, black and grey and white and it reminds him of Chris. Her words feel so nice and pleasant like the softness of clean sheets or grass after rain.

His mom dabs paint on the tip of his nose, then her own and Josh giggles and she lets him hold the colors and help her paint and she tells him he's magic. Josh begins to believe her. 

Sam sends him a letter in July, arriving a day after Josh's birthday and inside is a pink flower along with a letter addressed to him. Sam's handwriting is neat, prim like she is. She tells him she misses him and his siblings, tells him how she saw a mama bear and her baby. Josh imagines Sam with binoculars, peering over a large rock and writing her letter to him. It makes him smile. He tacks the letter to the bulletin board over his desk, glancing at it every so often when he draws.

Josh thinks of Chris sometimes, thinks of sitting in Tildy's kitchen, perched up high on the island stools wiping syrup off of Chris' face because he's a messy eater. He thinks of how he's made two friends who are remarkable and different and he holds onto the memories when his mind begins to shake and his eyes can't stay open. 

"You met a boy?" Sam asks.

They're lying on Josh's bed, staring up at the painted stars on the ceiling. Hannah and Beth are asleep between them, Beth curled into Josh's side, Hannah folded over Sam. Josh nods.

"Yeah."

"I'm happy for you, Josh." Sam smiles when she says it. 

"Thank you." Josh returns the gesture.

They stare at each other for a moment, hands folded around one another, wedged underneath Beth's body. Josh thinks about kissing her. It's an interesting thought, kissing Sam. He'd never considered it before but everything seems fresh and new and maybe it's because he met Chris, the freckled boy from America. 

Sam stares at Josh like she knows what he's thinking. She squeezes his hand and leans forward. Josh mimics it, Beth sliding along him with a soft sigh. Their lips touch, soft and simple. Josh blinks, face hot and Sam giggles, kissing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bbies

**Author's Note:**

> /eternally sighs/


End file.
